


There's A Light

by valonqarth



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 04:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valonqarth/pseuds/valonqarth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire was having a shitty day. Cold, wet and in desperate need of caffeine, Grantaire is drawn to the welcoming light of the Cafe Musain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's A Light

Grantaire was having a shitty day. Not one of those days filled with catastrophe and strife, but one of those days where the little things just seemed to go wrong.  
He had missed the tube in the morning and arrived late to class. He had dropped a paintbrush covered in red paint down his favourite pair of jeans (they weren’t really anything special, they just had the least amount of scuff marks compared to the others he owned) which would be a nightmare to get out. He had completely ruined his latest piece because it just wasn’t quite right and no matter how hard he tried to fix it it simply didn’t work. He’d also managed to get drenched by a bus driving through a puddle – which was how he discovered his shoe had a wonderful new hole in the sole.

The rain was hammering down at an angle (which really was not fair at all) and Grantaire was exhausted.  
Trudging through the rainy city, treading water with every step, Grantaire decided he was in desperate need of coffee. Or a drink.

Anything would suffice. At the end of the street he saw a light coming from one of the cafés. The light was warm and inviting, drawing him in like a beacon.He stepped into the café. The Café Musain, he’d read on the sign outside the door advertising cakes and croissants and, most importantly, coffee. It seemed that he was not the only one seeking refuge from the cold so he was instantly met by the sounds of chatter.

At this point the only thing keeping Grantaire was the warm smell of fresh coffee that Grantaire practically inhaled as soon as he got it, placing his hands around the hot mug in his hands in an effort to warm them up. He found a table by the back of the café and sat observing the people around him.

They were here for some kind of meeting by the looks of things. Grantaire weighed up his options and decided he had two choices. He could either go back into the freezing rain and somehow make it back to his flat and then get drunk with only a DVD boxset of Firefly for company… or he could stay. Stay in the warm, with food and coffee. Stay surrounded by laughter and music and people.

Grantaire felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see the face of an angel staring down at him. He seemed to be carved out of the finest marble imaginable. His long curls were knotted up in a haphazard bun that seemed to be held up by a combination of ballpoint pens and pure magic. How this guy managed to look elegant with a biro sticking out of his hair he could never know.

Grantaire wanted to draw him in charcoal until his fingertips turned black. He’d never been the kind of guy for sculpting but suddenly he wanted to be.  
  
This Galatea-made-flesh smiled.  
  
“Hello,” he said. “I’m Enjolras. You're here for the meeting?”  
  
Grantaire nodded in agreement. He wasn’t there for the meeting, but now he most definitely was.  
  
“My name’s Grantaire. Friends call me R.” Well, they would if I had any, Grantaire wanted to add, but he guessed this guy might not have seen Hercules considering he should’ve fucking starred in it, woah.  
  
Enjolras laughed. An unrestrained and melodic sound, so infectious that Grantaire couldn’t help but beam back at him. The sound of this angel’s laughter was nothing at all like Grantaire’s harsh barking laugh.  
  
“Nice pun,” he chuckled.  
  
Grantaire realised that he would do anything he could to hear him laugh like that again.  
  
The meeting began and the angel left him and began to speak. It was different hearing him speaking to the crowd of students; here he was in his element. Enjolras was a natural orator, with everyone in the room completely ensnared by his words of equality and freedom. Grantaire was wrong. It dawned on him that the man before him was not the beautiful statue he had thought him to be. His words held conviction and promise; like he truly believed in every word he was saying and would die on a battlefield for what he was talking about.

He was not Galatea, but Apollo. Glorious and furious and full of life. When he heard him speak his words of social change almost sounded prophetic, and Grantaire almost believed in what he was saying. He wanted to, he really did. His cynicism reared up inside of him at the words he was hearing.

Everything this golden god was saying was wrong. So wrong, in fact, that Grantaire almost wanted to interrupt him and explain exactly why he was so wrong. He refrained from doing so because interrupting Enjolras meant that he would stop speaking, and God knows that was the last thing Grantaire wanted him to ever do.

Grantaire wasn’t sure how long he spent in the dim orange light of the Café Musain chatting to the other students there, but before he knew it his coffee cup had been long since drained and people were saying their goodbyes and making their way back into the cold of the night. He realised that he should probably go too, longing for the comfort of his bed.

He said goodbye to the students he had been talking to, a guy wearing a floral scarf who started talking to him about Christina Rossetti before he’d even told Grantaire his name, another with a ridiculous name and the same paint-stained hands as him and Bahorel, a guy he vaguely recognised from the gym he went to.  
“Will you be coming again next week, R?” Jehan, he remembered, asked him.  
Grantaire glanced around the room at the people who were left, people he could see himself being friends with if they'd let him be, before his gaze fell on Enjolras who was pushing some thick-framed reading glasses up his nose.  
“Yeah,” Grantaire decided. “I definitely will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, I haven't really written anything in a while so I thought I'd better try and get used to writing things again. Unbeta'd so any mistakes are my own. Okay, bye.  
> For anyone that didn't know, Galatea is the name associated with the statue Pygmalion created who came to life in Greek myth.


End file.
